


A Different Kind of Ink: Inktober 2018

by ghoullly



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Patricide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-21 01:43:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16149920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoullly/pseuds/ghoullly
Summary: This is a collection of drabbles that will follow the 2018 Inktober schedule. For years I've tried to do the Inktober/Goretober prompts but I usually don't make it past the first few days. I've decided that maybe within writing I could not only get my inspiration back but finish a monthly prompt list for the first time ever!Proceed with caution! Some are more graphic than others; trigger warnings are listed at the beginning of each chapter. Characters will be added on as I write them.





	1. Poisonous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: descriptions of child abuse, patricide, poison //

It was an impulse decision, really, but it was an impulse decision years in the making.

It was a time bomb that had always been seconds away from exploding.

It was a pot, set on the stove and forgotten about to boil and boil and boil until it finally spilled over, searing the kitchen floor with scalding hot water.

The little boy sobbed as he pulled on his older brother’s shirt seam, trying to get him to stop rummaging through the cabinets. The taller of the two frowned at him but did nothing else to acknowledge him, fighting against his grip to keep digging. He clenched the neck of a half-drank bottle of booze in his fist, tips of his brown ears red as he continued to dig, hot tears pricking his eyes.

The younger boy was growing tired of being ignored, deciding to let out an ear-piercing scream as a last resort, willing to either get their father’s attention or to at least be spoken to.

Hannibal whirled around, clamping his hand over Murdoc’s mouth, bending down and holding him still. A tear spilled down his cheek as he held his hand there, his brother’s tears soaking his palm.

“Shhh, Murdoc, stop,” he cooed, the younger boy stopping his screaming but his struggle was still the same, “It’s for the best. I know that. You know that.”

Murdoc  _ did  _ know. His nose was bandaged up from when their father had come after him in a drunken rage a few days before, smashing a heavy rum bottle into his face when he’d tried to hide in the closet. He’d broken it in five places. He could tell that the teachers and other students at school knew something was amiss--he’d seen them whisper and turn their gaze away when he’d look at them with big, sad eyes half-hidden by his fringe--but nobody ever did anything. They saw Hannibal’s injuries, too; his jaw locked in the middle of sentences from getting it knocked out of place and never repaired and his one eye was steadily approaching blindness as it worsened over the years from a “freak accident” that had “left them traumatized and unable to talk about it” (in reality, it just frightened them to think what would happen if their dad would find out they’d spoken about the day that’d happened.)

Just that night, their father had chosen Hannibal as the main brunt of his anger, cornering him and beating him until he was bloody. He’d brandished a broken beer bottle and had swung at him with it as a final blow, catching his arm as Hannibal ducked away and it ripped wide open. As Hannibal bled over the bathtub to avoid making a mess as he dressed his wound, he had to rush to meet screams for help from his little brother as he was held up by only his neck, pinned against peeling walls until he was turning blue. Hannibal managed to dissipate it, cradling the sobbing child in the hallway as his bleeding arm spilled onto the carpets and Murdoc’s clothes, their father grumbling to himself and staggering to his bedroom. He shut the door quietly behind him, leaving his sons to come down from their adrenaline highs and weep together.

Murdoc let himself loosen a bit, standing still. Hannibal removed his hand, looking his little brother in the eyes as he moved away.

“It’s alright. It’s okay. We can’t stay here any more.” He went to go through the cleaning cabinets again, Murdoc waiting patiently behind him and sniffling every once and a while. Hannibal felt a rock in the back of his throat, but he just kept his brother in the back of his mind as motivation--no five year old boy should have to endure the things that Murdoc had, as well as what Hannibal had gone through the last twelve years.

Granted, no boy of any age should feel it justifiable to do what he was about to do, but he felt it deep in his bones anyway. 

He finally found the bottle of arsenic, bringing it out into the light, and he saw Murdoc stiffen his back and puff out his chest at the sight of it.

Hannibal shoved his finger over his lips and Murdoc swallowed his screams, putting his hands over his own mouth. Hannibal nodded, sitting down cross-legged on the cold garage floor, moving himself to the only light that hung over them. It was dim and orange, and Murdoc followed, sitting down too.

The older boy uncorked the bottle of booze, hands shaky as he twisted the cap off of the arsenic. He set them both in front of them, eyes unfocused as he stared into the dead space between them, his wrapped arm aching terribly.

“...We’re gonna poison Dad, Muddy,” he whispered, and the words dripped with venom as he said them aloud for the first time. Murdoc said nothing, staring into the dead space too, silent as tears spilled down his face. His big brother reached for his hand to squeeze it, and Murdoc squeezed back, looking over at Hannibal.

The elder brother’s cheeks were soaking wet, but his crooked jawline was set and his fogged-over eye bore a hard gaze. Hannibal squeezed harder.

“We’re gonna poison Dad, because nobody will answer our cries for help and we don’t deserve this.” He closed his eyes, swallowing the rock in his throat to the best of his ability. “Nobody will listen to us, and we need to get out. It’s for the best.”

The last four words rung out into the garage, the two boys sitting and holding each other’s hand in silence, their many injuries their motivations. 

They didn’t deserve this.

After a moment, the oldest brother reached out to grab the arsenic bottle, and with only a tiny bit of hesitation, began to tilt the powder into the lip of the bottle.  
  



	2. Tranquil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: none

The waves were gentle but cold, and every once and a while one would lick Noodle’s arm, disrupting her thoughts with a shock of ice.

The first few nights found her shivering and paranoid, unable to get a wink of sleep, but as she got used to the sea’s patterns, she began to find calmness in her surroundings more than anything. Endless waters of grays and pale blues, the sky a rainbow throughout the day and bathing her in a dark blue sky full of pinholes for stars. 

Russel had finally found her. She slept atop his head, the giant man managing to stay afloat somehow and sleep himself. They hadn’t found Murdoc or 2D yet, but they would keep trying. She’d managed to take down pirates in planes that had come for them so far, so she figured they had to be getting close.

The girl laid awake, half-sitting up to look at the world around her. Every once and a while, she saw whales breach in the distance, massive bodies dancing against the sky before diving back under. The moon hung full overhead, leaving a big white stripe of a reflection wavering atop the water. Clouds spread across the sky in scattered places, beautiful black masses decorating the stars. It was gorgeous, and God, was she thankful that she’d lived through her traumas of the last few years to get this far to see it.

The guitarist closed her eyes as a gentle breeze picked up and tickled her neck, tousling her hair. It wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t warm either; it was perfect, and it relaxed her.

She laid back onto Russel, resting her hands on her belly, and breathed in the salt lingering in the air. The sound of the waves crashing against her father’s arms acted as white noise and the crisp ocean breeze cradled her until she fell asleep.

With Russel around and the hints that they were getting closer and closer to the other half of her family, she was no longer afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had little to no inspiration for this one, sorry :,)


End file.
